The Embodiment of Salvation

        You and I are walking down a winding path on a beautiful day. It looks kind of like the expo path, but it's not expo park. It's downtown or maybe even in New York....
         Flowers are growing around us on the ground as we pass by. We are so happy. We stop for a moment while you gaze up into the sunshine, letting it wash over your face. Your hair grows instantly (almost like the Mexican pelo candy, only more realistic)-it gets much longer than it ever was. You giggle like a child as you shake your head- letting your hair fly everywhere, brushing against your face. I start jumping and clapping.
         A gnarled,wrinkled, skinny ugly hand grows from the ground right by our feet. It looks like a weak plant. Like it would rip, not stretch if anything were to put strain on it. We don't notice it at all. We are rejoicing the return of your long, shiny, beautiful hair. We are looking into the sky. I point out a cloud that looks exactly like a trolly, and we appreciate it together for a moment.
         Slowly, the hand wraps its fingers around your ankle. You are wearing jeans, and it is touching you very lightly, so you still don't notice. Suddenly it yanks you down, your foot breaks through the cement path, exposing an inferno beneath you. I hold my foot out over the flames for you to grab, and I reach up toward the trolly in the sky. It simultaneously meets my hand.
         Only bars separate each window. There is no glass. There is also a platform that goes around the perimeter of the trolly. It's half the size of a stair. I grab two of the window bars, and place my free foot on the platform. The passenger at this window puts his hands around mine, he is a black man. He wears a long khaki coat with several pockets, a black leather golf cap, and a pair of black sunglasses- the kind that blind people usually wear in movies. I use my weight, and his leverage to try and free you from the hand. The trolly goes into high gear as we play tug of war- you being the rope. (My ankle is hurting really bad, and my foot is scorched- it's very realistic.) You, and my foot are no longer being burned by the inferno. You have moved up slightly, but the demon hand still has a firm grip around your ankle.
         You start to lose grip of my ankle. I go to reach for you with my hand, but the man who is holding them will not let them go. I scream, demanding him to let go of one of my hands, but he does not respond at all. He has a serene expression on his face. His hands are firmly gripping my hands- but not squeezing or hurting me. Even when I pull, it doesn't hurt me. The other passengers have all moved to our side of the trolly. Two more of them grab onto my arms, ignoring my protests.
         As I am grappling with these people, your fingers slip all the way off of my ankle, then my foot, then the tip of my toe. There is a lot of screaming and commotion coming from you and I- but none of the passengers on the trolly are angry, or disturbed at all. They care, but they're not freaking out. I am hysterical as the three passengers that were holding me, hoist me into the trolly. I look out the window- down at the gaping hole in the path with the inferno bleeding through it-consuming all beauty around it. It has burned many of the flowers that grew around us during our walk.
         The passengers on the trolly surround me. One gently comforts me by rubbing my back. The man who initially grabbed my hands explains that you could've boarded the trolly as well- but you didn't want to. I feel like he's crazy. Why wouldn't you have wanted to get on the trolly? You wanted to get sucked into the inferno? It doesn't make sense to me. I become angry, but the magic of the trolly causes me to be incapable of expressing this anger in a loud, or rude manner- it comes out more like an inquisition. Each passenger takes a turn trying to explain your situation to me, but I am unable to understand it for the duration of the dream. When I wake up, my foot burns for a week.
         It is only NOW that I understand. I didn't even understand all that this dream entails until now. Before, I thought that I still could have helped you. I thought it was my negligence, or lack of doing something I could have done that caused you to be sucked into the inferno. I constantly assumed the blame for your addiction because of this small piece of enlightenment I gained.
         I felt that because I had this dream, I could have been made aware of the weak plant that grew next to your ankle, and plucked it from the ground prior to it acquiring strength, or power. When it was just a thin twig. Before it knew it was going to grab you. I also wonder how strong it was at that stage- if it would have consumed me as I bent to pluck it. Then- I should have instead moved you from the area where the gnarled hand grew. Which brings me to wonder- If it grew to grab you? Would the demon hand have then just grown elsewhere where you were standing? Is the answer to always keep moving? Never stop-even to rejoice for the things we feel are important? I know that I don't have the power to always keep you moving- metaphorically, or in any sense. Does it signify that most addiction begins in time of celebration?
         I ignored the part when I was on the trolly- all the passengers attempted to explain that you could have boarded the trolly with me. That it was a choice you made. This is the part that I am going over with new vision: The man who refused to let go of my arms was Jesus (The driver was God. He was a stocky black guy with giant mirrored sun glasses.) It wasn't that he didn't care about you- or that he wouldn't stop to pull you out too, but you have to reach for him yourself. You have to want more for yourself than to sink into that hole.
         Then, you would have the power of your very own rescue trolly to pull you out, rather than trying to rely on the power of my trolly. The pain in my ankle represented the pain that caused by using all my strength do do what I think it takes to pull you out of the inferno- but I am not strong enough to pull you out at this angle, and it's leaving me burned and hurt. You coming over to crash- I feel like I'm helping you by offering a safe place for you, away from the elements, and the street, but really I'm not. I'm distracting you from reaching up and grabbing your cloud, your Jesus- whatever shape it may be.